Aftermath
by eliseiswriting
Summary: Greg Lestrade gets told of Sherlocks death. This is the conversation that ensues.


**A/N: Obvious mentions of suicide. Other than that, enjoy!**

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"Sherlock's dead." It wasn't something he wanted to ever hear in his lifetime, especially from Molly's mouth.

"How?" His voice was quiet, but with no emotion.

"He killed himself twenty minutes ago." Molly's voice was quieter than usual, and he could understand why.

"Oh. I-" He wasn't entirely sure what to say.

"Fell from the top of Barts. Greg, I'm sorry."

"I know." He hung up, not wanting to speak more about it. He took a few breaths, mentally willing himself not to cry, and then got up and left his office.

The desk nearest his office was Sally Donovans, and was as good a desk to stand on as any. He stood atop it, and whistled as loud as he could, to get everyone's attention.

"I know a lot of you didn't like Sherlock, I know he was a dick to you. I know he took John hostage last night, and escaped arrest. I know-"

"Sir, what are you doing?" Sally had evidently returned to her desk.

"Sergeant Donovan." He paused, and then decided to ignore that she was there. "I know what he was accused of. Don't think for one second I don't." He took a deep breath before speaking again. "Twenty minutes ago, Sherlock Holmes killed himself." He said nothing more, and got off the desk.

"Sir, are you serious?" Sally asked, and Greg turned to face her, his face stony.

"Do you honestly think I'd lie to you, about him, at a time like this?" He didn't mean to sound so spiteful, but he couldn't say she didn't deserve it. He turned back around and walked into his office.

"Sir!" She was persistent, that was for sure, but didn't dare come into his office. "What about Watson?"

He sat down at his desk before answering. "What about him?" His voice was considerably weaker.

"He punched the Chief Superintendent in the face!"

"His best friend just died. I think we can let him off for now." He looked at the opposite corner of the room, as to not let Sally see the tears forming in his eyes.

"Sir, are you okay?" For a supposedly clever woman, she did ask stupid questions sometimes, but at least she had noticed. He pursed his lips.

"If someone you considered a son, killed himself less than half an hour ago, would you be okay?" There was a sigh from the door way, and Greg looked back at her. Sally took a few steps inside, and closed the door before she spoke again.

"When I was sixteen, I got pregnant." Greg knew this, it was in her file. "I kept the him, till he was born, and then I put him up for adoption. I've always been told anything major that had happened to him, and I used to visit him once a month, with his parents permission," Her voice wavered slightly. "Two months ago, he killed himself. So, Sir, I do know how it feels."

"Sally, I- ah. Just sit." He paused, waiting for her to sit down, and then looked her in the eye, reconsidering what he was going to say. "This is the second son I've had, that has died." Greg broke eye contact, not being able to bear looking at her any longer. "And I know, that saying sorry doesn't make it any better, at all, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Thank you Sir-"

"I think we're a bit past that, aren't we? Got a bit personal, haven't we?"

"Only a little." There was only a small hint of sarcasm in what she said. He waited a long moment, before he spoke.

"Sally, do you honestly believe he was a fraud?" There was a pause, before she answered, and that was nearly enough of an answer.

"I think it is, no, was, a possibility." He nodded, and ignored the tear that fell from his eye, and hoped she did too. "I know we came to you, saying what we did, and I know he wasn't necessarily a nice person, and I definitely wasn't to him, but I never, for one second wanted him dead."

"I know. Sally, can you, um-"

"Leave?" He nodded, hoping she understood. She gave a small smile, before standing up and leaving him alone in his office. He then walked around his office, and closed all his blinds, before sitting back down in his chair, sighing heavily.

He ran a hand down his face, wiping away the tear track, and if, after that, there was an unstoppable flow of silent tears, he admitted it to no-one but himself.


End file.
